


Darksound of the Opera, a Poem of Longing and the Barricaded Heart

by Anonymous



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Bang, Bad Fic, Cannon compliant, Crossover, Deliberate Badfic, F/M, Friendship/Love, Genderbending, Mention of abuse, Neologisms, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Revolutionaries In Love, Song Lyrics, abhorred faces, battling tongues, dungeons of black despair, half-hearted hs au, love among the ruins, love causing the ruins, love-induced flooding, orbs, paris is a mary sue, revolutions, the opera garnier, the timeless opera garnier, unsuccessful magical realism, wretchedness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darksound has lived at the opera garnier for centureis, composing operas in the loneliness of her empty heart, but not until an exchange student named Enjorlas comes to visit does she realize that she has truly been asleep and is now awake to the posibility of love. A Love Story Of The Opera Granier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darksound of the Opera, a Poem of Longing and the Barricaded Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bad Bang 48-hour badfic challenge.

 

What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful.    --Sappho

 

 

OVERTURE

_The sun is an orb, and the moon is an orb, and my eyes are also orbs, which I am told are brightest adamant in color, though purple and grey in some lights, but unlike the brighter stars of our nature, which rome the starry darknes unencumbered, these orbs of mine are not free. No, indeed they are prisoners – beautiful and lonely prisoners to a skull so distorted deformed it is hardly a face in the darkness in which I dwell._

 

_Darkness is my only friend – darkness and my dark music the closest thing I have ever known to a lover. My orbs are drowned in tears, and yet they cannot swim free. My soul is an orchestra that must be muffled forever by the darkness and the sound equivalent of darkness, that terrible absence of music that surrounds me, which I call Darksound. And Darksound is also the name fate has given me, the name I cling to as though it were another friend that I don't trully have, for I have no other name, and no past, only the darkness and Darksound and the pitying and mocking light of the orbs which are free and the orbs which are prisoners._

 

_My name is Darksound, and this is my story._

 

 

 

 

ACT ONE

ORBS OF LONELINESS

 

It was the day of senior prom at the Opera Garnier. The chorus girls were giggling with Joseph Buquet and Mme Giry about what they were going to wear and how it would set off their fair and ivory skin, which is not racist to say because this is the 18thcentury. I, Darksound watched from the darkness, hoping no one would reach out to draw me into the conversation only to run screaming at my unbearable hideousness as so many had before. Rage and sadness tore through the oceans of my soul like a hypercane of unmercy.

 

I felt the music, my only friend in the cold and vast world, rise in my soul to counteract the darksound that pressed around me like a terrible beast. Softly, I hummed the words to one of my most recent operas

 

_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside,_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Make my blood to run_

_before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

 

The sad notes of my own compositions made me remember the endless night that was my world under the opera house and had been for centuries untold. Tears emerged glistening brightly at the corner of each of my orbs as I wondered if there would ever be anyone to wake my from my sadness and the numbness of my sad life.

 

Christine Diee leaned on the arm of her best friend Melanie. They were the most popular girls at the Opera Garnier. Popular, and beautiful, and cruel in their beauty. They passed right by me without even looking. I imagined what it would be like to say, hello Christine, would you go to prom with me? To walk down the magnificent steps of the Opera Garnier with her on my arm, and not as a kidnappign situation but because she actually liked me. The bitter words of my own opera hissed mockingly in my ear

 

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_

_I need to open my orbs to everything_

 

Only words! Words --- and LIES. Did I truley believe the instoxicating music I composed? Could I not simply sleep, and not be woken, when waking was only a prelude to pain? ? Yet no matter how I tried I could not sleep my way into sweet oblivion, prisoners though they were in my cruel disfigurement, my hungry orbs burned to know all the beauty of the waking world. And so I watch and wait, though my heart may constantly break.

 

_how can you see into my orbs like open doors_

_leading you darling to my core_

_where I've become so numb_

 

Christine Daie turned to whisper something to her homely but still normal looking frined, and the two girls giggled together as though all the world were young. Oh Prom! O name of my torment! I fell to the ground in a faint of strangely sexual agony not that I would know much about the joys of the flesh due to my exrreme hideousness . O to be a merely normal level of ugliness !! ! ! I could show my true face at prom then. Weeping and nashing my teeth in the darkness behind the heavy and confining yet gently erotic velvet curtains of the opera practice room, I heard the heartsong of my infinite solitude creep around my brain like a seductive, yet deadly snake of music

 

_ive been living a lie_

_theres nothing in side_

 

 

_. . . . . . . . .. . . bring me to life . . . . . . . . ._

 

. . .

 

CHAPTER TWO

ORBS OF CRUEL HOPE

 

Still wepeing in my dungeon in the dim light of a thousand candles, I fitted some of my favorite masks to see which one would be best for prom. The one with a skull face was my favorite though I breifly flirted with the sleek quarter mask that showed my hideous face so plainly it was like wearing nothing at all. Finally I settled on a sensible half mask with a built in nose and tassels of deepest red velvet. I slipped into the dark velvet bikini top and saraong skilk skirt that I had worn as chief architect of the shah of Persia lo these many years ago, years that ache like yawining chasms across the burning desert that is my desolate existence. A pair of two toned knee high boots worn over blood-red fishnet stockings completed the look.

 

Still flush with tears, I chanced a glance in the mirror, my most hated enemy. It was my unique and terrible curse to be born with the curvaseous body of a goddess, topped with the head of an unbearable gargoyle zombie skull. Even as a baby, my mother never beared to look at me, and never saw me without a mask. Even when I was wearing a mask if it was insufficient she would make me wear another mask on top for safekeeping. where other peoples mothers knit baby blankets and little hats mine only ever knitted masks. She browsed the mask catolog and for christmas every year wrapped up eleven new masks in bright wrapping paper for me to open instead of toys. I will never forget the humiliation of unwrapping one mask after another, until finally, crying pitifully out of my sunken, but still detestably beautiful orbs, the housekeeper brought me one last present out of some hidden resess, only to find that it was yet another mask. In fact my first job when I ran away from home at 11 was to start a mask shop with all the masks I had received of al shapes and sizes. The mask was a bitter fact of life, bitter because it is my heart and a fact of life because that's just what had to happen or people would constatly faint and have heart attacks from seeing me. 

 

Suddenly a ray of light broke in upon my darkness and the darksound of my soul was rent by a golden voice.

 

“excuse me”, said the voice, in its musicality almost like the opening riff of an opera, “is this the boys locker room

 

“no, I said, this is the dungeon of my black despair.”

 

“Im sorry”, he said. His icy blue orbs caressed my sinuous curves causing a pang of terror at the memory of my hideous face and what effect it would have on this beautiful young man if he saw it.

 

“You must go,” I breathed out desprately.

 

But then his orbs met mine and flashes of lustful light crackled between us like Suddenly, I was covered in confusion such that I had never experienced, for as a demisexual, I was only attracted to those to whom I shared a deep connection. Yet this golden boy man child sent trembling red hot squishinesses throughout my entire labial region and boson. What was I to make of this strange incongruity except that we had connected in a pervious life? ? My heart began to pound with incongruity and desperation of my sudden love.

 

“My name is enjorrlas”, he said goldenly, holding out his hand. “Im the new exchange student from the Alphabet Friends Experimental High School.”

 

“Oh, I said. I've heard of it. You must be here for our superior theatre facilities.”

 

“Alals, no, he sighed.” The threater can only flourish in times of plenty and freedom, and this is a time of despair. The people of Pairs must be free from terrany before any true art can be crated, unless it be the art of Revolution/”

 

Though I feared lingering any longer in converastation due to the increased likelyhood that this golden god of love would rip off my mask and either die of fright or try to down himself in the underground lake from the cruelty of my fate, I was too fascinated by his golden blue and shimmering orbs and his body of appropriate proportions to listen to my better judgement. So I questioned him, breathing out,

 

“Surely the theater has always florished? Why the opera Garnier has survived unchanged for a thousand years!”

 

He shook his head sadly. “Inside the opera, all is light and beauty. Outside, the times are perilous indeed. The Revolution Club at Alphabet Friends High School are the only ones who seem able or willing to do anything about it. Since the cruel General Ganondorf used trickery and corruption to became King of France, there has been nothing but despair outside these haollowed walls. That is why I came here, perhaps searching to find some one in the very hart of Pearis kind enough to help.”

 

Edjorals' words haunted me as mercilessly as the words of my own half-composed opera. Was it turlly a time of despair? FOR ME of course it had been a time of despair for all eternity. But I had allways imagined the rest of Pairs as a joyous world of light from which I was barred. Little did I know! ! ! in fact, cocooned in the eternal safety of the opera garnier, I had failed to see the revolutions and wars that raged outside.

 

come, said ejornals, let me show you the wretched ppl of the city.

 

First I must change my mask, I said.

 

“”But why? Why do you need a mask? You are beautiful!

 

O Endjorlas, that is what you must never ask me! ! I cryed. Why is the very question that burns in my soul every night and day in the darksound of my cruel fate!

 

“Ok, he said.” So I changed into a full coverage mask with a small false nose and trimming of red ribbon. A few hot tears tickled my orbs as I remembered the Christmas I had received it. My mother had hinted all month that if I was good, we could take a special shopping trip to the central city of our region. I was so frightened yet hopefull. I spent weeks never speaking to her or making any sound just as she wished it, hoping I could be good enough to earn the shopping trip. I even tore up an opera I had been composing that she didn't like. Finally the day of the shopping trip came by. I put on my best mask and the maid helped to dress me. Mother was almost kind and even looked directly into my orbs once or twice instead of looking away. We got in the carriage and rode for 2 hours listening to the radio and I felt happier than I had ever felt in my life, I though, perhaps finally everything will be all right! But when we pulled the horses into the parking lot, my heart was drowned in misery. We were nowehre near to the central city with its buslting lights and seductive normalness. Instead, a huge warehouse loomed before me with the sign in blinking lights, JACQUES-PIERRE MASQUE EMPPORIUM. My mother had taken me to a mask store.

 

On that day, something in my heartstrings snapped and from that day on I was a black and empty shell filled only with darksound, the cruel opposte of music, and sometimes also with music. I set fire to the mask store and watched it burn, laughing cruelly in my agony. I set our carriage on fire and ran away into the woods, hoping somehow to make my way in a world that had chosed to despise me.

 

As I tied my mask carefully onto my face, I tried to keep the cruel tears of my past from disficuring me further. Why did I even try? I wondered. Why did I not just garrot enjorlas immediately and throw his body in the lake, as punishment for making me remember the unbearableness that was my lot in life? I had killed so many in my emptiness and never regretted it, for it was not I who made myself a monster but the world and its rejection of me for shallow reasons.. Yet somehow his gentle beauty made me wish for something better. Was it even possible for a monster like me to be less of a monster in truth????? I did not think so. Yet somehow I felt able to hope.

 

We walked through the slums of pairs and he introduced me to the children who were starving and other ppl who were poor or didn't have legs or something. Even in the rat infested darkness of my soul, I had never seen such suffering, though I noted with bitterness that even the poor were beautiful when compared to my aborred face. Mean While Eljolies spoke of the love of mankind and also of the love of particular people. Perhaps, I thought, though I could never be loved of any man or woman, I could join Endorjas, change the bitterness in my heart for a love of Humanity Itself and for the great, though terrible city of Pairs. Yet even as I thought this my own words of my great and terrible opera came back to mock me:

 

_what i've felt_

_what I've known_

_never shined through in what ive shown_

_never be_

_never see_

_never see what might have been_

_what ive felt_

_what i've known_

_never shined through in what i've shown_

_never free_

_never ME_

_so I dub thee UNFORGIVEN_

 

I swallowed my bitterness and felt it course down my esophogus into the pit of my stomach, where it bobbed for a little while and then sank.

 

At the Alphabet Club Headquarters we met his friends, Martin, Fantine, grenadine and javer, who were breaking up Louis-Phillipe chairs and old rowboats to help him block the streets and fight the false king General Ganondorf and establish democracy for all people. He poured me a glass of sherry wine and we raised our glasses together and sang their song of revolution:

 

_The light on the horizon is brighter every day_

_Shadows floating over  
Skies begin to fade_

_You said it was forever_

_But your rein ends today! ! !_

_Standing at the edge of_

_The Final Masquerade_

 

Through the darksound of my heart's longings a note of hope began to sound. Perhaps as the revolutionaries tore the mask off the corruption of General Ganondorf, I too could tear off the masks of fear and detestation to reveal a heart that beats with love? ? O how I longed it to be true !

 

But would Edoras understand?

 

 

 

ACT THREE

ORBS OF REVOLUTION

 

Now you must choose a new name, said Denjoras. For the dark sound in your heart must now be replaced by the most seductive sound of all, the Song of Angry Men! Then he bid me sing it with him.

 

_Suddenly something has happened to me_

_as I was having my cup of tea_

_Suddenly I was feeling depressed_

_I was utterly and totally stressed_

_did you know you made me cry_

_do you know you made me die_

 

_it's the animal, the animal_

_the animal instinct in me_

 

The magnifcient stirring song of rebellion brought tears to the orbs that surrounded me. I looked into fantine's brown orbs and saw hope and pugnaciousness, as well as in those of Javer and Grenadine and Martin too, and most of all in my beautiful new friend Ednsojar, whose orbs alone seemed to shine with the fire of comets who would bring in their gaseous tales the seeds of a new world of beauty and justice.

 

In my joy at being brought into the alphabet circle and singing their songs, I nearly forgot the hideousness of my face. But how long could I stay masked? As I raised another glass to the songs of revolution, Gernadine said, “who are you really? Without seeing your face, how do we know you are not a policeman or even Ganaondorf himself?”

 

“peace, greandaine,” said Javer gently, running his fingers through his melleficent dark brown hair as he spoke. We must trust one another or who can we trust?”

 

“I completely agree,” said Ejorsars. He held out his hand and helped me down from the table where I had climed up in my enthusiasm. “we must let our new Alpahbet Friend keep her face covered if she has her own reasons. And then he kissed me gently on the hand. His soft lips were as moist and insubstantial as a cloud. And now we must be reuturning to the Opera Garanier, he said sadly. “Bid me farewell, friends, for I do not leave you lightly”

 

I bid farewell to my new friends, Javery, Martin, fantine, and even Grenadine. As we walked along the silvery river back toward the Opera House, the church bells rang in the misty greyness and Ejorsoaurs slipped his hand in mine. Every atom in my creully well-formed body rebelled against this unexpected intimacy. For me to trust that a man could love me, despite my hisedous face, I thought, that would be the true revolution to end all revolutions.

 

When we retunred to the opera house, however, a grim site awaited us! Hearing rumors of a revolutionary action from the Alphablet Club, the General Ganondorf had ordered a strike on the very heart of Pairs, my only home and dungeon, my prison and my masterpiece --- ---- --- - - -THE OPERA GARNIER

 

There were canons lines up all up and down the street and men with swords shooting and barraging the beautiful building. High up on the roof, the golden statue of Appallo seemed to embody his own name as he wepped in an appalled way for the destruction of pariss's crown jewel of arcitecture, trapdoors, and culture, not to mention the thing which had been my one friend for as long as I can remember – MUSIC.

 

Then I remembered with horror that  – it was prom night! The Ballroom Stage would be full of innocent chorus girls and other people dancing happily, who would die when the canons brought down the building or set it on fire. I had to warn them! “I must go on inside,” I cryed to Enjdoras. Only I can manipulate the trapdoors enough to carry everyone to safety from the grand ballroom stage!

 

Then you must go! Enjloras cried out alongside me. I will rally the citizens of Pairs to fight this creul general who calls himself king!

 

As I ran into my beautiful opera building, I could hear Ejornas softly singing amid the screams and gunpowder:

 

 _All I ever wanted_  
Secrets that you keep  
All you ever wanted  
The truth I couldn't speak  
Cause I can't see forgiveness  
And you can't see the crime  
And we both keep on waiting  
For what we left behind

 

 

 

ACT FOUR

ORBS OF REVELATION

 

Then I ran into to where the prom was in full swing. How I had hated these people once and envied them! An orchestra was playing the top hit opera songs of the past year: “Think of Me” “Born to Die” “Poor Fool He Makes Me Laugh” and “My Immortal Beloved.” The oboe section had just begun an especially challening solo. There were cakes and punch on the table with streamers and balloons drifiting languidly in the air like the scrotums of the men whose tender touch I would never know, mocking me in my unloveable hideousness. For a moment, envy and despair raged within me as I saw Roul, dancing on the slender plump arms of Chrisine Diae, take a swig from his extra large liquor flask.

 

Listen to me,” I cried with all my might, but the music was too loud, the dancers too entangled in their dance. They could not even hear the canons outside. The opera Garnier was trully its own world unto itself. I realized with a sharp pain that only one thing could catch their attention, only one thing in all the world was shocking and disquisting enough to take their orbs away from one another and their dream world that they inahited, though O! How I shuddered, even in my desperation, to name it!

 

It was . . . . . . . .. . …..........................

 

MY FACE

 

Slowly, deftly, I undid the velvet ribbons on the mask that now meant so much to me – the mask in which I had walked abroad, like a living human being, with the beautiful and passionate Eljoras. Then, with a cry of pain so loud it drowned out for a moment the cruel canonfire and the dancing of the innocents, I unfurled the horrible splendor of

 

MY FACE

 

Terrrible screams rented the night. A cry of “WHAT IS IT” went up like a bolt of flames.

 

WAIT, I demanded, now that they were all looking at me at last. “The General Ganondorf has laid seige to the Opera House! I don't mean to scare you, but I can get you to safety in the sub basemet! Please come with me!”

 

I showed them the trapdoors and how to get down to where my lair was. It was crowded but everyone got in ok. As I left, Christine Duae turned her dark green orbs on me and looked beseechingly into my own. “You have saved us,” she said lovingly as Raoul took another drink and punched her idly in the face.

 

But I could not stop to set things right! Luckily I had stocked the fridge with lots of food, bottled water and sanitary napkins for when I was still planning to kidnap someone, before love captured my better nature, so there was plenty for everyone to last for a while. I had to run back out to where Eljaos was standing atop a brand new barricade, waving a flag he had made out of my red velvet wrap which I dropped on my way into the Opear Hose.

 

Citizens of Pairs!! cryed enjorlaes. The Evil king General Ganondorf has persecuted our people, ransacked our city! Now he has declared war on the Opera Garnier herself! ! !

 

A crowd had gathered outside, and someone had run to get Fantine, Martin, Greandaine, and Javer. They had rushed to our aide with guns, furniture, bottled water, and pitchforks. But the canons kept firing mercilesly as the crowd rushed to them. One was pointed straight at ENJORLSA! My heart beating fiercely as a man beating a horse, I rushed to sheild him from the impact.

 

Ejorals, I cryied, NO as a cannonball hit me straight in the chest, blocking him from being killed but causing my own lifes blood to gush forth like the mighty river Seine that flows through all our hearts.

 

""Darksound, no! He lifted my limp body from the barricade and carried it down the steps to the front door of the opera house. You monsters! From his vest pocket he took a scented hankerchief and began to dab at the wound, applying gentle but firm pressure to stop the bleeding.

 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the battle raged around us. Fantine, Grenadine, Martin and Javery all died and so did a lot of other people. Their corpses piled up in walls that slowly granted us the privacy we sought. amid the chaos of battle as I felt my life blood pumping gently against endjsors hand I heard him singing softly to me as if in a lullaby of golden sadness.

 

_You only see what your orbs want to see_

_How can life be what you want it to be?_

_You're frozen_

_When your heart's not open_

 

and I sang sadly back to him

 

_I'm so consumed with what I could not get_

_I wasted time on hate and regret_

_I'm frozen_

_Now my heart is open_

 

And he sang back, weeping tears of golden beauty onto my wounded chest, a heart that was brokne in more ways than one.

 

_You should know I suffer the same_

_If I lose you_

_My heart will be broken_

_Love is a bird, she needs to fly_

_Let all the hurt inside of you die. . . ._

 

Gently, he lifted me to my feet before the gates of the Opera Garnier. Suddenly, I realized with horror that in the excitement of the moment, I had forgotten to reattach my mask. A gentle wind caressed my facial skin as I covered my face with both hands and turned away in agony.

 

No, no, said Ejolrais. I see you now as you really are. He pulled both of my hands from my face with one hand, keeping the pressure on my wounded chest with the other, and began to sing in a soft and golden voice, the very words I had not yet written but which were always already etched so deeply in the libretto of the opera of my heart

 

_Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live_

_Maybe one of these days you can let the light in_

_Show me_

_How big your brave is_

 

He took his hand off the chest wound, embraced me fully, and kissed me on the lips, his tongue piercing the cold reserve of my misshapen lips. As the blood flowed from my wounded torso, the hate and sorrow of so many wasted years gushed from my aching heart. . . . . I heard my own words come back to me, not mocking now, but truer that the most adamnat truth:

 

_**Breathe into me and make me real** _

_**Bring me to life** _

_**Wake me up inside** _

_**Wake me up inside** _

_**Call my name and save me from the dark . . .. . . . . .  
** _

 

 

ACT FIVE

ORBS OF RESOLUTION

 

I heard the beating of my heart first of all, as we kissed in the shadows made by the barricades and the corpses and the tall soldiers on their horses. As our tongues battled for dominance in our formerly barricaded but now wide open and burning mouths, the slow beat of my heart began to grow in strength and loudness. Somewhere far away I could hear the voices of the revolutionaries softly singing: 

 

_we tried so hard and got so far_

_but in the end, it doesn't even matter_

_we had to fall, to lose it all_

_but in the end, it doesn't even matter_

 

At first the canons and the crashing of brick and mortar were louder than my heart, but then enjorlas's heart joined the chorus and even the loudest reports were like tiny footseps on a distant sidewalk compared to our hearts beating as one. The sound was louder than the canons and louder than the drums and louder than all of the songs of all the revolutionaries in Paris. 

 

Then it began to rain, just a few drops at first and then a torrent like my heart's blood. My hearts blood mingled with the water and the streets ran red as my velvet clothing. The river flooded and all the chairs and tables and broken bottles and cash registers and carriages and canons and canonballs and muskets and dead rats and brooms that were too big for the children that weilded them and the bridges and the battered bricks of the damaged Opera Garnaier rose and flowed away down the streets into the swollen and bloodstained Seine and down to the sea. Then the whole city was under four feet of water and the bread was ruined in the bakeries and all of the oboes were ruined also and the vioins all got water in them and broke apart and floated off to see, and the Frimin and Andre of the opera lamented that they would never again hear such beautiful music as those classical instruenments had made. As we kissed the rain kept falling and falling and finally they send the police to come and pry us apart, but they were so moved at our love that they turned away and began to weep themselves. Then the special forces team came, their horses barely able to walk in the deep mud and water, and demanded that we stop kissing just t see if it helped. Jenjdordas cried, Never, and waved the flag made of my velvet wrap so that it fluttered and flapped in the icy wind. I knew in my heart that it was the strength of our love that had flooded Paris, and the simple farmers came up in rough home made boats to give us gifts of salt and flowers because previously there had been a drought so actually the flood was a relief. (A/N there is a ton more historical background to this situation and the whole ganondorf rein in my longer fic series, so please check back soon if u are confused!! ! !) 

 

Finally General Ganondorf himself, defeated in battle but still proud and tyrannius, came to beg us to stop kissing or all of Paris would be underwater. Then I looked around and saw with my own orbs how much damage we had wrought. Orphans were bobbing helplessly on loaves of bread, bicylces were lodged in the mud, the horses, up to water to their necks, stumbled and whinnieyd in pain as they brought the General near to where we were still locked in an embrace in the midst of the rain. When he spoke his voice was strangely gentle for the man I had been taught to hate. 

 

He said, my children, my dear children, please. You must stop this madness. Though we have differences, we are all children of Pairs. Do it for her sake, if for no one else. 

 

Ejorlas turned his bright blue kindly orbs on the General, for whose cruelties he and the people of Paris had suffered so much. 

 

“hdu come upon us in the midst of our farewell, after all you have done to the people of this city, he said. This is the woman who saved my life and the lives of 1000s in the Opera Garnier which you so recklessly assaulted in your lust for power. Cant you see she is dying!! “

 

Then he burst into tears and the rain fell harder still. It had begun to reach the underneath of our bottom lips, so that when we kissed again, water flowed into our mouths. 

 

We must go to the roof, I gasped, it's the only way. 

 

As water poured over the surfaces of the Oprea Garneir, I led him to the top of the roof where golden Appallo gazed kindly upon our caresses. Yet something was tormenting me still. I broke away at last from the embrace unti which I had so willingly fell. 

 

”How can this thing be, I breathed out, suddenly feeling the waves of terror crash over me that my beautiful Eklorsas had looked upon my hideous face. “you must not look on me,” I said. We cannot be together, please look away while I put on my mask again.

 

My dear Darksound, said enajoras, my beauty has been a curse to me and not a blessing. You are beautiful to me because of the music that is in your soul. So be not Darksound any longer, but Morning Rose, the neverending song of angry men and also of the roses that bloom in all of our hearts. Your so-called ugliness saved the lives of the Opera Garnier Class of 1888, and countless more besides, but it is for your beauty that I love you.“

 

Was it real, or a dying dream? Was it too late for me, or would there be a life to come where my sould would not be, like those strangely colored orbs that now once again were drowned in tears, a prisoner of ugliness? Far below, under Appallo's gentle leer, I could see the velvet seats and the many librettos of the opera floating in the shimmering floodwaters. My beautiful Opera House would need to be rebuilt. But I knew in my heart, as the last of the blood oozed slowl from from my body, that I could not be the one to rebuild it. Perhaps what remained of the Alphabet Friends Club could come together and make a better opera house, a better world, with what was left. Perhaps. . . . that was the final gift I could somehow give them. 

 

As the rain slowly stilled to a stop and the sun began to peak its cruel rays over the rooftops of paris, I felt the last of enjoasl's tears drip onto my body as he sang softly,

 

_ spend all your time waiting  _

_ for that second chance _

_ for a break that would make it ok _

_ there's always some reason _

_ to feel not good enough _

_ and its hard at the end of the day _

 

and I answered with my last breath, 

 

_ I need some distraction  _

_ o beautiful release  _

_ memories seep from my veins _

_ let me be empty and weigtless and maybe  _

_ I'll find some peace to-night  _

 

and then it seemed to me that I saw the whole Alphabet Club, and even the policemen and the special forces Calvary, standing together in what remained of the barricades, waving flags and singing 

 

_ in the arms of the angel  _

_ fly away from here  _

_ from this dark cold Opera rooftop  _

_ and the emptiness that you fear  _

 

I saw my old friends from the Opera Garnier, and even the shah of Persia and his daughter, and the police chief who had been so kind to me long ago, wearing a fez and looking uncomfortble, dabbing at his large dark brown soulful orbs with the monogrammed handkerchief he had always carried. 

 

_ We are pulled from the reckage of our silent revierie _

_ we're in the arms of the angel  _

_ may we find some comfort here  _

 

_ The end . . . . . or is it? _

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Darksound of the Opera, a Poem of Longing and the Barricaded Heart - Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230878) by Anonymous 




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